The Right Track
by heroesofolympussy
Summary: Artemis Black was having a good day until she received the Daily Prophet. "My criminal father escaped the most secure of prisons and now, the entire Wizarding community thought he was after Harry Potter, my god brother."


**Chapter One: Tea at Grandmother's**

When my grandmother tried to set me up with Draco Malfoy, my mum had gone livid. I'm not quite sure if I had ever seen her that mad, but I did see the reason. To be clear, I was also very opposed to this 'set up' because first and foremost, Draco was my honest to gods cousin. We were related and I don't care how distantly, that would never happen because the boy was also an all-out git.

And of course, Grandmother Walburga thought it was all fine and dandy, but this is coming from a woman who married _her_ cousin. To each their own, I had told her and she started ranting on and on about pure blood. These moments make me wonder why my mum allowed us to visit her.

From stories I've heard my grandmother was a vile woman who stood behind Voldemort and tried to brand her own son with the Dark Mark. It was my mum who had told my brother and I those stories which makes it even harder to understand why we come to Grimmauld Place every Sunday to have tea.

It wasn't that Walburga was all bad. She absolutely adored Apollo, my twin brother and she was nice enough to me which I didn't take into offence since learning the reason to why. Kreacher, her house elf told me "Mistress likes young Master best. She say he look like Master Regulus."

The old crow missed her son and I hoped that that meant there was humanity left inside her. She did cut off all ties with Voldemort after her son's death. I'm not quite sure why, but since my uncle was announced dead, the House of Black aided Voldemort no more... At least that's what my mum tells us.

But when we're at Grimmauld Place, we never speak of Voldemort or Regulus, or even my father. That is, until my dad escaped Azkaban.

It must have been the gods having a laugh for us to find out of my father's escape at tea. The Daily Prophet usually came late on Sunday's and it was a good thing. It gave us something to talk about rather that sit in a thick silence as grandmother glared at mum or as mum glared grandmother. I will never understand their relationship, if I must be honest.

The room was as it always was, dimly lit and a degree a little colder than it ought to be. The only light was provided by the windows which remained open for the daily post. Each of us were seated at different ends of a large dark wood table. Apollo was leaned back in his chair, comfortably, knowing only he could get away with sitting before grandmother in such a way. When I rolled my eyes at him, he stuck his tongue out at me in response.

This time, my mum was glaring at grandmother. It had only been a week since the 'Malfoy proposal' as Apollo liked to call it. He found the whole thing rather hilarious, especially considering he was somewhat civil with Draco, another thing about my brother that I'd never understand. He had wrote the boy an entire letter demanding he pay a dowry for my hand. Apollo really had an odd sense of humor.

When the dark owl flew through the window and dropped the paper on the table, the glaring ceased, but not the thick air around us. Grandmother reached and grabbed the Daily Prophet and leaning back in her chair as she started reading. As I watched her dark eyebrows creep up her forehead in shock, my mum peered down at her hands and Apollo was staring at the ceiling as if he wished it would cave in and release him from having to sit and listen to grandmother talk for another hour. I didn't blame him one bit.

"What's so astonishing today, grandmother?" I asked and my mum and brother's heads snapped up, giving my grandmother their full attention. My mother's hazel eyes filled with curiosity as did my brother's silver eyes, I'm sure.

Walburga looked up from the paper, looking older than ever before. I knew for a fact that she was quite aged, but she hid it well with certain charms I hope I have the pleasure of never having to know. At almost every outing, she mentioned how she had no clue how Muggle woman bear to live past fifty without those special charms. My mother would remind her of the existence of cosmetics, to which grandmother would state, 'Rubbish.'

She tossed the paper at my mother, frowning a bit to see she had gracefully caught it. "Have a look." grandmother said with little emotion. My mum met her icy blue eyes before looking down at the Daily Prophet. Her body went rigid within seconds upon looking at the content. I grew more curious by the second and looked to my grandmother for some explanation or a hint, at the least. "I do suppose its only fair, speaking retrospectively of course. My son would never kill thirteen Muggles, much less that _pathetic_ friend of his. It seemed only right he be released, even if it wasn't exactly the Ministry's choice. Oh, but I do wonder... how did that idiot boy managed to do it."

Apollo blinked at grandmother's rambling in confusion and I was a little lost as well. She seemed to be speaking to air and not to either of us. "Managed to do what, gran?" Apollo questioned. He was supposed to call her grandmother as she had insisted, but Apollo never bothered to listen.

My mum set the paper down on the table. The headline and my father's picture was easy to see despite the distance the ridiculously large table provided between each of us. "Is this a joke?" Apollo muttered, letting out a dry laugh.

"It would be a really bad one." I reply, as I stared blankly at the image of my father. He was thrashing in chains like a savage and he looked like one as well. His dark hair was matted and his silver eyes, identical to mine and my brother's, had a wild glint in them. It was hard to look at, but also hard to look away. He was my father, no, he is my father and I couldn't help but worry about the absolute madness and insanity he reflected in the photo. The man in the photo was nowhere close to the man I remembered as my father.

My mind began to run a mile a minute, beginning with how he even managed to do it. I looked to my mother, the woman who had known him best for any sign that she knew. There wasn't any, my mother looked like stone. Still and expressionless. "Mum, are you okay?" I then called out to her, a bit worried.

Mother shook her head, stiffly. "Have you read it?" she asked, her tone was quite cold, pissed actually. "They think he's after Harry."

My twin brother cursed, before throwing the paper out into the middle of the table. I stole a glance at each of them. Grandmother, the crazy old bat she was, seemed to be mumbling to herself, Apollo looked really angry, more so than I had ever seen, and mother looked white in the face with only one expression clearly displayed on her face, worry.

I could see the meaning behind each of their reactions, well except for grandmother's, I'm pretty sure she's just crazy, though I'm sure the news didn't help much. I, myself wasn't even sure how to process the information. My criminal father escaped the most secure of prisons and now, the entire Wizarding community thought he was after Harry Potter, my god brother. That was certainly something to be angry about, considering the fact that I never once believed that my father could do such things.

But I was also worried. He put himself in more danger than ever. If he was caught, I'm positive it won't end well. And then there was the curiosity. How, for starters… And why now? What provoked him to leave the imprisonment after all this time?

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><p>This is something I had been working on ages ago, it seems like. So, I don't know, tell me what you guys think? Reviews are oh so welcomed! I haven't uploaded anything in a while and some encouragement would be great! Sorry if it seems a bit rough, I don't find myself to be the best proofreader. Thanks! See you soon, I hope! Happy Holidays!<p>

-heroesofolympussy


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